Hotwife Hotel: A Wifewatching Romance

Copyright 2016 Jason Lenov
Thirteenth Line Publications

This book is a work of fiction. All characters, companies, organizations, products and events in this book, other than those that are clearly in the public domain, are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, companies, organizations, events, or products, is purely conincidental.

All characters depicted in this story are 18 years or older.

Cover characters are models. Image(s) is/are licensed from:
depositphotos.com

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Prologue

I watched Rebecca moving through the big old house, opening cupboards and peering inside. There was an excitement, an energy in her motions that hadn't been there before. I looked out the window, down the cliffs and towards the darkening sea. Something about her expression made me brave.

Catching her arm in my hand as she swept past me, I brought her close.

"Hey!" she yelped. She let me know she wasn't serious with a smile. I eyed her lovely frame and settled my gaze on those bright, blue eyes.

"You know we can do some of this tomorrow? We don't have to clean everything today?"

"I know, I'm just excited!" she squealed, pressing towards me and puckering her pink lips up for a kiss. "Besides, what else are we going to do?"

I stopped myself from raising an eyebrow, my biggest tell of what I had in mind. It would only make her roll her eyes anyways.

"Oh," she purred, pushing even closer and swinging her arms up and over my shoulders.

My eyes widened slightly. Something was definitely different about my wife.

"You think we should inaugurate the place?" she asked.

My mouth dropped open at her candour. Of course that's what I thought. Why did she? Not that I minded. I didn't mind at all. I was thrilled, ecstatic even that she had brought it up. It just wasn't like her.

She stepped up onto tiptoes and pulled me closer for another kiss. It was more than just a peck this time. It was a long, lingering thing as she pushed her tongue gently into my mouth.

I felt myself start to rise. With her body pressed to mine, so did she.

"I guess that's a yes?" she whispered, holding me in her gaze.

I nodded. A very eager nod.

She pulled away and I pushed off the counter I'd been leaning on, expecting her to pull me upstairs to bed. Instead, she pushed her fingers against my chest, settling me back into position as she sank down to her knees.

I glanced at her, then nervously out the windows into what was now an almost pitch black night beyond.

"Umm..." I started, wondering how I should word my worry.

"What's a matter?" she purred, her hands already tugging at my belt. "Worried someone's watching?"

The sentence only intensified my arousal and I throbbed inside my jeans. The memory of words she'd spoken when we met rushed at me from the past.

I saw you watching me.

It made me flex again. This was definitely a different Rebecca. One from long ago.

Her mouth curled into a sinful smile as she pulled my jeans and boxers down in one motion, setting me free and giggling as she watched me bounce.

I gasped as she wrapped her fingers around my throbbing girth, moving her hand along my length and staring, as if she were deciding where to start.

"There's no one here but us," she whispered, glancing at the black windows that faced only the ocean. "Besides, if there was someone there, they probably wouldn't mind."

I opened my mouth to argue, for some reason, but before I could speak she pushed her soft tongue out of her mouth and let me settle on the tip. The delicious, wet sensation made me melt and shudder. I forgot about the window. I forgot about the world. I hadn't seen her like this in years.

Her eyes fixed on mine, she pressed the head of my cock past those pink, delicious lips. I stiffened in her mouth. Her eyes lit up with glee. Glee and hunger.

My head rolled back as I reached behind to steady myself on the counter. Closing my eyes, I felt the wet heat of the inside of her cheeks as she pulled me deep into her mouth.

Steady John Forrest. Steady.

I looked down. She was still looking up. It made me twitch. I groaned as she began sliding along my shaft. Sloppy, wet noises filled the empty kitchen, bouncing off the barren walls. I could feel it pushing through me already.

"Rebecca," I whispered, breathless.

She seemed to understand. She didn't seem to care. Wrapping her fingers even more tightly around the base of my shaft, I felt her other hand move between my thighs. It wasn't long before her hot little palm cupped my straining sack. Her fingers found my balls and I felt a gentle squeeze.

"Oh fuck," I hissed as I felt cum moving through me. I was pulsing now, with each delicious suck.

She moaned. A low, throaty moan that travelled through my cock into my core. It only pushed me closer. She must have felt it, or tasted the beginnings of it on her tongue. Her mouth began to move more quickly, sliding along my shaft.

Something I hadn't thought of in so long came rushing back. As I started to erupt the image that I'd kept all to myself filled my mind.

My wife, Rebecca Reason, sucking on another man's thick cock.

"Ah!" I shouted as I burst hot seed into her mouth. She clung to me, swallowing with greed. I pulsed and throbbed until she'd emptied all I had, then slowed and pulled herself off with a lascivious slurp.

She stood up and kissed me. I could smell myself on her breath.

"What was that?" I asked, my breathing still laboured.

She shrugged. "To our new life."

I looked into her eyes. There was mischief there. I smiled. "To our new life."

Chapter 1

As we stood at the top of the rickety staircase, the salty wind blowing up from the cove, I could feel the energy buzzing inside Rebecca. I let my eyes trace the handsomely proud line of her jaw, dip down towards her neck and finally settle on the full curve of her breasts. Something had changed in her since the move, I could feel it. There was something about the sea air that made her lighter, less concerned.

"Well whaddya doin' jes standin' der?!? Go help'm whidis tings!" she cried, flapping an arm down towards the man struggling to pull his bag up the stairs. She couldn't help but crack a smile at the terrible imitation of a Newfoundland accent she'd just attempted. It was often amazing, how little like English it sounded. We both had yet to pick up on the subtleties and often were left puzzling in the local shops when people spoke to us.

"Keep practising!" I called out as I jogged down the steps. When I reached the man, he'd made it about a third of the way but seemed relieved to see me. "John Forrest," I said, reaching a hand out to shake his. He stopped and propped the suitcase he'd been wrestling with against his leg. He reached out a hand, barely fazed at the twenty or so steep steps he'd had to climb to get where we were standing.

"Andre Williams," he said, cracking a wide smile. His deep voice sounded like it came somewhere from the northeast coast and I wondered what a man like him was doing in a place like this.

"Can I help you with your suitcase at all?" I asked, leaning down to grab the handle of the bag.

"It's the most exercise I've had all week. To tell you the truth I'd rather be doing this with my day than sitting in another meeting!" he replied, seeming genuinely excited to be lugging the thing up the stairs.

I bent down and waved into the cab of the pickup truck that was idling on the narrow dirt road. Sam Fisher's muscular frame barely fit into the red, rusty thing but he'd bought it somewhere for five hundred bucks and now wouldn't let it die. He gave a quick nod and a curt wave before remembering himself and rolling down the window.

"Say hello to dat lovely wife of yours won't ya?" he called out before putting the thing in gear and setting it rolling down the slope.

"You sure you don't want a hand?" I asked, turning to Andre who'd made it up five steps in the time I'd been saying hello to Sam.

"No sir! I'll handle it okay."

"Fair enough," I said, smiling in sympathy and understanding at the plight of hours and hours spent in pointless meetings in beige boardrooms. "Follow me then and we'll get you settled."

Rebecca was where I'd left her, at the top of the steep incline, standing on the landing looking like she was getting ready for a photo shoot about life in a seaside town. By the time we reached her, we were both in need of a few moments to catch our breath and even with that, I had to pause every few words for a big gulp of air.

"Rebecca," I said, panting and pointing towards the man, "meet our first guest, Andre Williams."

She smiled her polite smile, the one previously reserved for friends, one that she'd apparently re-purposed for guests. I watched her press the creamy skin of her pale, white hand into his dark palm.

"First guest?" he asked, seeming genuinely surprised.

"Very first one!" Rebecca chimed, her friendly smile cracking into a full blown grin.

I couldn't help the swell of pride and joy I felt at seeing her that way. It had taken some convincing, to make her come with me, to start this completely new life in a place so far from where we'd made a life for ourselves. Seeing her in such good spirits made it seem like there was a hope that it would work. That my gamble would pay off. That this place would bring us back to what we'd once been together.

I waved Andre forward. "Please, after you."

Rebecca stepped aside to let him pass.

"There's no turning back now," I whispered, moving behind her and kissing her neck.

I felt her smile. "We can always turn back."

I looked over the cove and towards the ocean beyond. There wasn't a cloud to be seen and the wind was blowing strong up the rocky coast.

God I hoped we'd done the right thing.

Chapter 2

I always loved loud women. I loved loud women because quite often, they did all the work. Not that I mind flirting or courtship, but there is a certain element of risk to approaching a woman not knowing how she might respond. Especially the quiet ones.

The loud ones on the other hand, they always seemed much easier to handle. They told you if the thought you were cute. They asked you out for beer. They took care of all the stuff that it was hard to do, as a guy. I always dated loud women. A lot of them did turn out to be a little crazy though.

Rebecca Reason was the quietest woman I'd ever met. It was a chance encounter at a huge college. Well it was
my
chance encounter. I didn't think she knew about me for a while.

I saw her walking out of class and couldn't get her face out of my mind for the rest of the day.

Now I'm a pretty normal guy. I try not to spend a lot of time lurking in dark corners and staring at women, you know? This time, I thought that would be an appropriate thing to do. Really.

So like a creepy stalker I waited outside the same class the next day and watched her leave again. It turned out that being creepy is easier than being brave. Every day she had that class I would wait and follow her to her dorm then watch her walk inside.

Gradually, with the panache of a true psycho, I started watching her go to the library, go to lunch in the cafeteria. I'd start building my schedule around her, where I thought she would be and if she didn't show up, I'd be devastated.

I started noticing something. She didn't talk to a lot of people, but the people she did talk to were mostly guys. Even though I'd never talked to her, even though I really had nothing to do with her yet, each time I saw her talk to them or laugh at something they had said, a sizzle of anxious jealousy would rush through me. That feeling would always settle in my cock.

It was just a loosening at first, the same feeling you get when you see something hot. The more I started obsessing about it though, the more I couldn't stop. I would titillate myself with the initial jealousy thinking of it brought. As soon as I settled into the memory, that jealousy would always melt to lust. It was fucking hot as hell.

They were always big guys too. I kind of didn't get it. She seemed like a nerdy type, someone who read a lot of fan fiction and maybe played a little WoW on the weekends. Or a lot. But there she was hanging around half the varsity football team, giggling like a cheerleader.